


The Favorite

by LadyBergamot



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe, Cunnilingus, Eating out, Edelthea, Edelthea NSFW Week (Fire Emblem), F/F, LEWD, Oral Sex, Smut, Vanilla, porn with a modicum amount of plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-14
Updated: 2020-06-14
Packaged: 2021-03-03 23:35:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,327
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24713950
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyBergamot/pseuds/LadyBergamot
Summary: Dorothea Arnault is an up and coming courtesan in Enbarr, rising through the ranks of society thanks to her famed beauty and musical prowess. She owes much of her success to a hard and fast rule: never fall in love. Yet things change when the Emperor of Adrestia, Edelgard von Hresvelg, joins her clientele and quickly becomes a favorite.Written for Edelthea NSFW Week - Day 4: "I doubt I'll ever be in a passionate romance."
Relationships: Dorothea Arnault & Edelgard von Hresvelg, Dorothea Arnault/Edelgard von Hresvelg
Comments: 10
Kudos: 97





	The Favorite

**Author's Note:**

> Okay here's baby's first wlw smut fic. I'm a little flustered, but ah I hope it's to your liking! I also hope it follows the rules as I read them for Edelthea NSFW week.

The wine glass glittered with candlelight. Or at least it _looked_ that way from Edelgard’s perspective. Her eyes fixed on the slender hand that held it - the milky, pink-bitten skin of the infamous courtesan, Dorothea Arnault. Perhaps it was _her_ and the many jewels that decked her fingers which made the crystal shine so bright. Or was _she_ starting to get drunk, hallucinating glamor where there wasn’t any? Either way, it didn’t matter. Dorothea’s plan, if there _was_ a plan, worked. All eyes, especially the Adrestian Emperor’s, were on her.

“More wine, your majesty?” Dorthea asked. She had on a coy smile that told of unspoken mischief. She raised her glass, tipping it delicately toward her lips. Edelgard noticed the smoothness of her motions and the precision of her touch. Not a single drop moved the deep rouge which painted her lips. _Shame_ , thought Edelgard. She would’ve liked to see that pigment smear.

“No thank you,” Edelgard answered politely. She sat up from her chaise and lurched forward, plucking a grape from the center plate before letting it drop into her mouth. Next to her, a servant poured more wine into her glass. It didn’t matter that the Emperor had declined, or that the courtesan never gave the order. They were dancing a dance, and the emperor, despite her station, had her own role in the play.

“Madame Arnault,” interrupted one of the noblemen present, “I must ask for your supplier! The wine is absolutely divine!” He was a plucky middle-aged man, absolutely red and flush with the wine that had been making the rounds.

Though many of the other guests vied and clamored for the courtesan’s attention, Edelgard was keenly aware that Dorothea’s eyes were fixed on one person and _one_ person only.

The courtesan herself laughed. She laughed in that soft, exaggerated sort of way that was so becoming of her. She was a perfect actress if there was ever one.

“Why, that’s a house secret, my lord.” She laid a bashful finger upon his lips and briefly pursed hers in a ghostly shushing gesture. “If I told you all where I get my wine, then there’s no reason for you to come, is there?” Dorothea flashed another glance at the emperor before she took another sip of her drink.

The whole room burst into a hearty guffaw. Edelgard almost winced at the grating ruckus of it. Men always had these bellowing voices. She wanted them out. She wanted to be done with pretenses and to be left alone. Well, not _exactly_ alone.

“I believe her majesty is tired,” Dorothea blithely remarked. She still had on a wry and pleasant smile. So long as she wore it, she could soften _any_ blow - any scathing remark that would have otherwise offended. The courtesan leaned in and fanned herself, feigning aloofness while everyone savored the elegance of her figure, perched comfortably on her silken cushions. “Should I put her to bed?”

The other men laughed. One was even boorish enough to slap his knee in his enthusiasm.

This time, Edelgard made her disdain known. She leaned back on her chaise and looked askance, scoffing audibly at their party guests.

“Or perhaps I should dance?” the sly courtesan continued. “Maybe her majesty would like to be entertained before she retires for the night?” She rose from her chaise and clapped, signaling to the servants their spontaneous need for musical instruments. The servants obeyed, bowing before retreating seamlessly into the shadows. Lute players and harpists emerged, ready to partake in Dorothea’s little game.

The party goers hemmed and hawed, cooing from the tantalizing view as Dorothea moved to the center of the room.

Edelgard leaned back on her chaise and rested her lackadaisical arms on the armrests. She yawned to display her bemusement, but even _she_ couldn't hide the hint of a smile as she watched Dorothea strike the beginnings of her pose. Her figure was enough to make Edelgard's lips quiver with excitement.

The harpist was the first to pluck his strings, sending melodious notes through the air as Dorothea clapped in step. She spun and twirled, spritely in her steps as she circled the low table which regaled a cornucopia of fruits and delicacies. The rattle of the tambourine became her cue, and soon she was twirling through the room. The silk of her dress flowed with the midsummer breeze.

The men around them cheered, their voices reaching an uproarious pitch.

But not Edelgard.

The Emperor of Adrestia fixed her eyes on the lithe figure before her. Many in court have already gossiped about Edelgard’s most recent obsession, but it’s not like the rumors stopped her. Dorothea was many things: tall, slender, beautiful, and divine. This was her fourth night at the courtesan’s house, and she has yet to discover everything she wanted about the infamous woman. She was grateful that a recent diplomatic mission enabled yet another visit. The pretense might have been political, but her desires weren’t. Edelgard watched, her soft features were alight with a barely subdued flame. Inwardly, she counted the seconds left until it was time for the party to disband and for her to stay - lingering in the darkened halls of the courtesan’s chambers while the rest of Enbarr slept.

Meanwhile, Dorothea Arnault lost herself in the trance of her performance. All she felt was the cold sweat that beaded down her temples. Was she nervous? No, she rarely experienced stage fright, but there was an audience member who inspired such a titillating sort of fear in her. She felt it - a gaze that seared through anything. The Emperor _wanted_ her, that much was clear, but Dorothea _liked_ games. She relished in them.

What would be the point if she keeled over and let her majesty just _take_ whatever she wanted? _That’s no fun,_ thought Dorothea. She let out a laugh as she flailed her arms with the rising melody of the music. _It's better to make her wait._ The mere thought of it brought a smug grin to her lips. She clapped again and let her hips sway with the downbeat. Another round of applause from her audience brought her back to reality.

Her eyes scanned the room. So many nameless faces and so many faceless men clapped for her. She knew that they too wanted her. _Poor things…_ Dorothea let out a parched yet steady sigh as she calmed her hitched breathing. Even her hairline felt heavy and hot as a line of sweat draped over her face. She had worked up a sweat in her dance, but she was no less tired than when she began. She still had energy for more, and, looking directly at Edelgard who sat unfazed in her chaise, she _yearned_ for more.

The musicians clapped along, and the servants returned to the shadows from whence they came. The gentlemen clapped and sang her praises, talking amongst themselves. How lucky they were, they would say, to witness the Rose of Enbarr perform in person.

Edelgard loathed such mingling. She didn’t care to share in their mirth, much less pine after a jewel that was so obviously not _theirs_ for the taking. She brought her emissaries to the courtesan for entertainment, but by night’s end that mask would soon come undone.

Cocking her head to the side, Edelgard exhaled a lazy, breathy sigh. “Come Dorothea,” she commanded. “It’s time, I think, for us to retire.”

Dorothea blushed, or at least she feigned one. The rosiness of her cheeks spread down to her neck, giving the illusion of a luxurious shapeliness about her.

“Yes, your majesty,” she murmured before giving a low curtsey.

* * *

Dorothea’s heels echoed loudly in the hall. Though her manse classified more as a “villa,” it was nevertheless sizable. Hallways spanned entire ballrooms, and marbled walls gave it an illusory depth. She had purchased it cheaply from a disinherited nobleman years before, and she was proud to say that the manse was now ascending to new glories. There she was, after all, traipsing through its halls like a lady. No, more than that. She walked through it like a _queen_ , and that was more than enough for a courtesan with such humble beginnings.

A hand shot out in the dark, gripping her forearm tightly. Dorothea barely let out a squeal before it drew her into the shadows, landing with her back firmly against the marbled wall.

“Did you mean to keep me waiting?” It was Edelgard. Her voice was low and breathy, and - strangely enough - intoxicatingly fragrant. It smelled like rose petals soaked in wine.

Dorothea was in the middle of wondering how that was possible, but another kiss from her emperor put a swift end to all that. Her majesty might have been of smaller stature, but she was not any less powerful for it. Edelgard pushed back fiercely, sucking in her breath when her mouth pressed firmly against Dorothea’s.

A soft moan escaped from Dorothea’s lips, which was more than she was initially willing to give. She resisted Edelgard’s gloved hand as it pinned hers against the wall. There was a momentary struggle - a fleeting push for dominance until Edelgard won out. It didn’t take long for their fingers to lace together, matching the simmering passion of their kiss. Soon, Edelgard’s hand dithered downward, brushing against loose tresses of Dorothea's hair until her fingers traced the lacework of her dress.

“Forgive me, Edie,” Dorothea teased once they parted for a moment’s breath. She punctuated the sentiment with lilting laughter. “I worked up a sweat while dancing, so I thought to freshen myself up before you visited me.”

“I told you not to call me that!” Her whispers were low, but there was a soft, flustered whine to them. For someone so powerful, Edelgard was at times so childishly bashful. Dorothea found it endearing at times, even as she had her pushed against the wall.

Edelgard's hand rose back up to cup the courtesan’s cheek, her thumb grazing lightly over the corner of her mouth. “And I told you to _never_ keep me waiting.” She pushed her thumb slightly further into her mouth, letting her taste the fabric as it hovered close to her tongue.

Dorothea laughed more heartily than before. It was enough to catch Edelgard off guard, whose mouth hung open with ready words of protest.

But the same game of surprise had turned the hunter into prey. Dorothea whipped around, deftly catching Edelgard and pinning _her_ against the wall. The emperor let out a coarse grunt from the force of it, but her fury was short lived.

“Forgive me then,” Dorothea murmured. She slowly lowered herself, fingers tracing lines down the bodice of Edelgard’s gown as she went on her knees.

“Dorothea, what are you-”

Dorothea countered with a cavalier sort of smile. Her green eyes never left Edelgard’s face, not even when her fingers toyed with the hem of her emperor’s skirt. Slowly, she lifted it up, stopping only once she caught a glimpse of her thighs - pink and milky under the moonlight.

Dorothea didn’t know what it was that she enjoyed the most about their trysts. How long have they been doing this now? How often? These questions were lost amid feverish thoughts. Not once in her wildest dreams did she expect that _royalty_ would comprise her clientele, much less the Emperor herself. It must have been their third - or no, was it their fourth? - time meeting like this. Yet everything still felt new. Every toe-curling touch, every shudder down her spine, and every songlike mewl from her majesty still sent her reeling.

Wedging herself between Edelgard’s legs, she let her hands slither up from her thighs to the curve of her hips. There was a mischievous gleam in her eye when the emperor willingly raised her left leg, dangling it over the courtesan’s shoulder. _Perhaps_ , thought Dorothea, _it was from having a closer view._

Closer indeed. Dorothea had a view that perhaps no one else had. One could almost call it unflattering. She saw the fullness of Edelgard’s neck when she craned it back from pleasure. She saw the suppleness of her breasts, the way they bounced and plopped about from the frantic motions of unsatiated desire. What’s more, she could _smell_ her - all of her. Dorothea’s nose drifted close to Edelgard’s inner thigh, brazenly brushing her tongue where her limbs curved around to her bottom.

By definition, Dorothea could never be a “kept woman.” Courtesans could never afford the luxury of personal feelings, let alone one as dangerous as love. Who was _she_ to think of the Emperor as hers? Or that the Emperor would love _only_ her? So she tried not to love Edelgard, and she tried not to love it when Edelgard looked down on her as she did then. Her listless eyes were dim with hazy yearning.

The answer was obvious. Passionate romance was not in store for the young courtesan, but she had accepted this reality long ago. Dorothea felt no qualms when she pushed Edelgard’s thigh back and licked the length of her clit. If she couldn’t love, then she could worship. And this was the next closest thing to worshipping she could think of.

Edelgard rolled her hips, following Dorothea’s tongue as she bit down a mewl. How unfortunate that _she_ of all people chose such an inconvenient place to do this. There was nothing for her to grab - absolutely nothing to support her weight as she felt her legs melt from Dorothea’s ministrations.

“Thea…” she sighed out the affectionate nickname, eyes aflutter as she arched her back.

Dorothea positioned herself even lower, directly beneath Edelgard now that she had both arms wrapping beneath her thighs. She gave a wanton pull and soon all of Edelgard was on her face - the warmth of her pressing firmly against her mouth and nose so she could lap more hungrily than before.

Soft mewls gave way to gritty moans. “Thea _please_ ,” she begged, but what for? What could she possibly want? Edelgard’s brows furled from how confusing it all was. Dorothea was her first lover, and she still very much remained at her mercy.

“What is it Edie?” She was being sly in asking her question. “What is it that you want?” Yet she didn’t wait for Edelgard to answer. Her free hand slid quick fingers through Edelgard - wet and slick to the touch. She felt the way her lover canted forward; the way her hips rutted with each push and pull. There was so much longing written so incoherently over the contortions of her face, and Dorothea _liked_ it.

“Tell me Edie,” she tried again when her emperor was reduced to nothing but heady moans, “has anyone touched you like I have?”

Edelgard was still nibbling her lower lip when she shook her head frantically.

“Do you like how I touch you?” Her question met an abrupt end when she pressed her mouth once more between Edelgard’s folds. She mouthed kisses over her clit before lathing circles with her tongue. Dorothea could almost drown in the taste of her - a mix of something fruity and salty. The delight of it almost beat the feeling of her muscles growing taut with each touch.

By the time Dorothea pulled away for another panting respite, her own hips seemed to swell with a confusing sort of emptiness - a feeling of wanting to be filled whenever she looked directly into Edelgard’s eyes. _Use me_ , her eyes wanted to say. If romance had no part in her life, then she would settle for _this_.

Some semblance of control seemed to return to Edelgard. At least _that’s_ what the respite felt like. Her breaths were jagged, and her bodice was impossibly tight given the stifling air around them. Even her own silver hair came undone, wrapping like sweat-drenched tendrils along her cheek. Edelgard was _burning_ in her own clothes, and she wanted nothing more than sweet relief.

“More,” she commanded. “More…” As if to demonstrate her point, Edelgard rode Dorothea’s face before she finished speaking. Her hands found purchase once it landed on her lover’s head, clinging tightly to her thick brown locks as she let gravity pull her hips into a rhythm.

Dorothea didn’t seem to mind this pace. She merely grabbed onto Edelgard’s hips and sucked in with each rise and fall of her body. It was getting harder to breathe beneath her skirt, but what did she care? Being smothered between the emperor's thighs was a rather glorious way to die, or so she mused to herself. She was more than happy to sink further - to drink, and to drown with the taste of her. There was something feral about it all. Dorothea compared the madness of it all to her unhinged past on the streets, lapping up whatever delights she could rummage from the day. Now she was in the halls of her manse, lapping up Edelgard’s wetness in her tongue, fingering her until she screamed _her_ name through its barren corridors.

“Thea,” she breathlessly cried out, “please… I’m coming!” Edelgard threw her head back and laughed. She laughed as her hips recklessly pistoned into Dorothea’s face, legs trembling from near-climax.

Dorothea didn’t bother to waste her time with more teasing. Instead, she dutifully fulfilled what no lover could ever give her emperor. Still sucking on her clit, she pushed further with two fingers, fighting against the tightness of her muscles. Both her tongue and hand worked in tandem, allowing her to revel in their sweet, delicious friction.

Like a prayer, Edelgard sung Dorothea’s name as her hips spasmed with the tantalizing push and pull of their dance. Beneath her, Dorothea heard it all like a muffled roar. The pulse that flowed through Edelgard’s thighs was closer to her ear, but it was a heathenish sound she cherished just as dearly.

Edelgard felt a whole-body shudder, her toes curling with each tremor of her orgasm as she slowly rode it out like a wave. The feeling fizzled out as quickly as it came, and it took a much longer time before she realized she was panting, back flush against the wall, with her legs still perched on the gracious courtesan beneath her.

“That was-...”

Dorothea licked her lips before she let go. She tried to suppress her self-satisfied smile when, upon rising, Edelgard had trouble keeping balance.

“Spend the night with me.” It was a command that bordered on pleading. Dorothea honestly didn’t think she had it in her to dole out orders like that, but Edelgard’s skin was so deliciously flush. The luster in her eyes - filled as it was with pleasure - still glowed with barely dissipated yearning. She was sure that the emperor would interpret it favorably as a plea.

Edelgard, however, was still stuck in the hysterical haze of it all. An embarrassingly cheeky smile was still plastered on her face, and her complexion was rosier than ever even as it glistened with sweat. She brushed back undone locks of her hair as she stayed on the wall for support. “I can’t,” she mumbled in low tones. “I have-...”

Dorothea cut her off with a kiss, massaging her mouth with the sinful tongue that had just tasted all of her. “Surely whatever it is can wait.”

“It can’t…” Edelgard’s mouth hovered close to her lover’s nose. She hadn’t even noticed when her hand palmed the line of Dorothea’s jaw, caressing as she drew her closer.

“ _You’re_ the emperor. You can do as you wish,” Dorothea brazenly reminded her. “Stay with me.” She kissed her again for good measure, letting her free hands fiddle with the lacings of Edelgard’s waistcoat as a hint for things to come.

Who could argue with a kiss? And with one so sweet… She could still smell the sinfulness of it all on Dorothea’s lips. She could _taste_ it with her tongue. Perhaps, for one night, she’d make room for _one_ passionate romance in her life.

**Author's Note:**

> Feel free to give me a follow on twitter @ladybergamotx ! Feedback and reviews are *much* appreciated. Thank you so much!


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